


Ill-fitting Lingerie

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Breakfast in motel, Creature Fic, Don’t copy to another site, M/M, Revised Version, Rude Will Graham, Season/Series 01, Succubi & Incubi, aesthetic included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Hannibal brings Will breakfast in his motel room and Will opens the door in his underwear. He’s not compelled to go cover himself.For the Hannigram A/B/O Library’s #SpookySlick





	Ill-fitting Lingerie

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Another_lost_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one) for having beta read this work, which will probably be included in a book I’m planning to publish ❀

Incubi and succubi weren’t inherently nocturnal creatures, like ghouls and lycanthropes. They  _ preferred  _ the night, acted when the sun set, and nourished off restless sleeps, but functioned perfectly well during the daytime.

Jack had never bothered to adjust his schedule to suit Will’s needs, nor was he legally bound to, but the temporary starvation weakened the alpha sex demon, left him perpetually tired and ill-tempered. Sensible to the slightest touch or hostile posturing.

When Hannibal Lecter presented himself at the threshold of his motel room in Minnesota, clean-shaven and smelling like something Will could feed upon, the light had been  _ blinding _ and his mood incredibly bad.

“May I come in?” Hannibal politely inquired with a cordial smile.

Sadly, Will wasn’t particularly prone to old-world politeness first thing in the morning.

“You’re no vampire, you don’t require permission.” His voice was still hoarse from sleep.

Will didn’t appreciate Jack taking the liberty to send him an alpha psychiatrist specialized in supernaturals, especially one who wasn’t human to begin with.

“I’m asking all the same,” he retorted, not entirely pleasant. His smile didn’t falter.

_ Oh, isn’t this just charming_, Will thought. _Smartass for breakfast_.

There were rules to observe when interacting with individuals of other species, unspoken precautions to not step on each other’s feet, chemical signals to mark territory, but the head of the Paranormal Behavioral Science expected Will to behave as civilly as he would with a common sapiens. Perhaps the man hadn’t recognized the nature of this well-dressed monster. Will could believe that, thinking about their encounter in Jack’s office the previous afternoon.

He hadn’t outed Lecter then and there though.

Without further delay, he turned his back and allowed the visitor inside.

Thick curtains were purposefully arranged to block out the early sun rays, leaving the two occupants in a comfortable shade, stale air and tense silence surrounding them. Will recognized the heavy, pregnant quality of it, as he clearly perceived an intense gaze on his nape and legs and arms, bare to the view.

“Work clothes,” Will offered, unapologetic about his unremarkable lingerie and the naked portions of his skin, as any incubus would feel in a state of undress.

Lecter gracefully nodded and conceded him a moment to compose himself, inhale his diurnal medicines, rearrange the bedclothes, then they both sat on the plastic chairs close to the window.

“I’m very careful about what I put into my body,” he began, laying cutlery, coffee and two neat tupperwares on the small table, “which means I end up preparing most meals myself.”

Will refrained from stating that their diets most likely were consistently dissimilar. He barely ate  _ food _ if he could fill himself with wet dreams and someone else’s lust, but the smell of eggs and sausages was admittedly inviting.

Unfortunately, Will couldn’t accept the plate so lightly. “The woman next door masturbated last night,” he said. “Had a satisfying orgasm and fell in a peaceful slumber. If Jack sent you to ensure I wasn’t fasting, you can relax. No need to worry about my appetite.”

Something cold flickered behind Hannibal’s eyes for the briefest moment. Will might have come out rather tactless by refusing the gift, so he attentively held Hannibal’s gaze, assessing.

Will began wondering precisely what kind of monster he’d been dealing with. Light-tolerant and well-mannered enough to manage his own business, tame and stable enough to entertain relationships with the FBI.

Much like Will himself. But so utterly, undoubtedly different.

“I gather you’re often presented with the issue of soothing Jack’s concerns,” Hannibal noted. “His dominant personality might hinder you with the challenge of voluntary submitting to a creature of a different nature.”

Will was tempted to retort a certain sort of submission was in fact his sustenance, not something he’d willingly shirk from. “Jack doesn’t understand supernaturals. That would be why you’re here,” Will said instead. “He looks at me and sees a low-class demon, versatile for his purposes, fragile if not handled with care,” Will stated, “but incubi aren’t unstable.”

Whatever Hannibal was, it reeked of powerful and dangerous, which called to Will’s alpha instincts.

“Under healthy conditions,” Lecter casually added, meaningfully glancing at Will’s narrow waist, at the noticeable bags under his eyes. “It is rare to find an incubus of your appearance in a state of undernourishment and stubbornly refusing to correct their feeding regime.”

Will frowned, lowered his eyes when he realised he’d been reproached and complimented simultaneously.

“This creature whose fantasies you’re processing,” Hannibal continued, “I imagine you establish a connection with whomever is responsible of these crimes through your abilities.”

Will poured some coffee for himself, steeling himself for a more civil approach. “Not the way you think I do,” he said. “This killer doesn’t love the victims in a carnal way, it’s not about lusting after them.”

“You sense the kind of love you can’t feed upon,” Hannibal interjected. “How does this murderer differ from your usual targets, Will? What kind of love do you feel?”

The answer to that wasn’t easy to explain. “The kind of pure affection you’d expect between close siblings, tinged perhaps with the cloying, sickly sweet possessiveness pet owners often feel towards their animals. Something about protecting the recipient of your affection, something that would make you want to eat them rather than letting them go.”

“Not love, then. A perversion of it,” Hannibal noted, “verging into obsession.”

“Possibly,” Will agreed, sipping his coffee. It was delicious, distractingly so.

The sexual component in the whole investigation had been insignificant, feeble at best. Barely enough to tickle his taste buds but, contrary to his kind, Will could content himself with the sight of gruesome tableaux and the exquisite intensity that lingered, inebriating and forbidden, on certain crime scenes. A fine fragrance that most noses deemed repellent.

A guilty pleasure that Will routinely allowed himself through his repeated liaisons with law enforcement, which was the sole source of stable intake of such refined treats, outside performing the act of killing with his own hands.

The beauty of death, Will found it a delicacy no orgasm could compare with.

That, and Will’s mind was inevitably influenced by those grotesque displays.

“Do you regularly induce fantasies or engage in sexual activities to feed, or was last night a fortuitous occurrence?”

Will suppressed a growl at the bold question. He stood straighter, resisted the urge to forfeit good manners altogether and ungentlemanly chase the other alpha from his quarters. Lecter wasn’t his keeper, it wasn’t his place to inquire after Will’s dietary habits.

Instead of stating his discomfort, the incubus moved his plate, cutlery and glass aside and started slowly crawling on top of the smooth surface, approaching Hannibal’s unperturbed face. “You come into my den, suggest I don’t look adequately after myself,” Will said in a hushed whisper, low enough to summon a suggestion of intimacy, “are you offering yourself to my care, or merely poking at me?”

The intrusive alpha preened under Will’s attentions. A delicate smile graced his thin lips, but Hannibal kept his hands to himself despite the strong, inviting hormones warmly suffusing the air.

“I suspect your eating inconstancy is not entirely due to Jack’s working time, rather the inevitable result of a conscious semi-starvation on your part,” Lecter claimed. “I imagine it’s not laziness that preempts you from nourishing properly, on the contrary, you actively avoid the process of instilling erotic fantasies in your victims.” He paused, scrutinizing. “I wonder what kind of dreams your mind is capable of conjuring, what makes them so uncomfortable to share.”

The oddly specific remark left Will dumbfounded. He felt exposed, unbearably transparent before those penetrating eyes, pinned like a butterfly to the board. For a moment, Will feared he’d been facing a mind-reader or a seer of some sort, but the dark glow surrounding Hannibal spoke of cold winters and ancient solitude, experience over rough estimation.

It frightened and intrigued Will, it teased a forgotten part of his twisted soul.

For the briefest instant, the unflattering shirt and large pants he was wearing felt constricting and ill-fitting on his limbs.

“We’re not compatible,” Will felt compelled to point out, “my suggestions don’t work well on alpha minds, you wouldn’t enjoy my attempt at bringing forth,” he made a vague gesture, “whatever fancies your imagination. Besides, I don’t find you that appetizing,” he concluded.

“You will,” Hannibal readily retorted with a cryptical smirk.

Retreating to his chair with studious calm, Will considered his casual attitude. “Some confidence you have there.”

“False modesty never agreed with me.”

_ He certainly is no undine,  _ Will thought. _ He enjoys the sound of his voice way too much_.

He dared not inquire after Hannibal’s nature, found instead a reluctant compulsion to unravel the mystery for himself. _ Self-preservation_, Will reasoned. Despite Jack’s short-sightedness, supernaturals did require certain security measures to function without colliding with each other. Discovering what curious creature lay under those sharp clothes and hidden fangs was in Will’s best interest. Learning what would make Hannibal twitch and moan in bed, on the other hand, just a personal challenge.

Feeling more favourably disposed than he was at the beginning of their conversation, Will gingerly picked up his fork and poked at the attractive breakfast on his plate. As the first forkful of his previously discarded gift approached Will’s mouth, an intense stare enveloped him.

When the first taste of scrambled eggs and spiced sausage touched his tongue, a nightmarish charge of demonic sexuality radiated from the alpha seated before him.

And then Will was finally able to see some impressive black antlers sprouting from Hannibal’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation with [house_of_lantis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis), check out her take on incubus Will [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038591/chapters/50041886) :>  
I wasn’t kidding about the book. Let me know if you’re interested, or if you spot errors I should fix.  
[Find me elsewhere](https://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co). [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cinnamaldeide/status/1189909282659209217?s=20).


End file.
